


The Retribution Against Monaka Towa

by Instrumentalist



Series: Tragedy Without Despair — Dangan Ronpa [1]
Category: Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Despair, Bullying, Depression, Gen, Hurt No Comfort, Medical Trauma, Psychopathology & Sociopathy, Whump
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-24
Updated: 2017-03-19
Packaged: 2018-09-26 15:13:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 5
Words: 8,381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9908246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Instrumentalist/pseuds/Instrumentalist
Summary: Monaka had hurt as long as Monaka could remember. People had hurt Monaka, so Monaka had hurt them back. Then, when that had lost its fun, Monaka had given in to the pain.Monaka should have known that the people Monaka had hurt would come back.





	1. Pain, Compounded

“Monaka. Monaka."

“Hmm?”

“Monaka, wake up.”  


Monaka opened her eyes, and a bright white light filled her vision, sending bursts of pain through her head. “Ow!”

The light vanished. “What is your full name?”

“Huh…?”

“What is your full name?”

“M—my name?”

“What is your full name?”

Her head really hurt. “M—Monaka. Towa.”

“What day of the week is today?”

“…Wednesday?”

“What is today’s date?”

“The… the 25th?”

“What is today’s _full_ date?”

“The 25th of April, 2038?” Her bottom lip also hurt.

“Is your vision blurred or doubled right now?”

She tried to blink away the spots dancing in her vision and focus on the person in front of her. She couldn’t get much clearer than a dark outline and a sharp black suit. “Blurred?”

“Do you recall my name?”

She frowned. “I… know you?”

The figure sighed. “Come with me.”

They grabbed her by the shoulders and pulled her to her feet. When she tried to step forward, her right leg suddenly burst with pain, and she nearly collapsed. She felt the figure’s arm wrap around her shoulders and pull her up again. “Your right leg is fractured. Try not to put weight on it.”

Her left leg didn’t give out, but it still hurt to move. In fact, her entire body felt battered and bruised. Her right leg, her mouth, her left eye, and her stomach all in particular screamed in agony with every pulse. Her tongue felt swollen. “Wh… Where are we?”

“We are two blocks away from Hope’s Peak Academy.”

Hope’s Peak. She knew that name. She could grab hold of that. “I live at Hope’s Peak.”

“Unfortunately for you.”

Those words struck a nerve somewhere in her confused brain. “Huh?”

“If you were not dorming at Hope’s Peak, this would not have happened to you.”

Monaka was so confused. “What are you talking about?”

The figure turned their head, and Monaka caught a glint of steely red eyes. “You will remember in a few moments.”

She frowned again. “You’re Izuru Kamukura.”

“Yes. You’ve remembered.”

“It was the eyes…” She shut her own tightly, wincing as a jolt of pain went through her left eye. “I feel sick…”

“Tell me if we need to stop.”

“No…” she moaned. As she looked down at the ground, she noticed that her legs were covered in bloody pink, mixed with… something… unpleasant. She suddenly tasted bile in the back of her throat. “Actually…”

Izuru helped her onto her good knee as she started to vomit up what little was left in her stomach. She screwed her eyes shut even tighter, trying not to think about exactly what she wasexpelling out of her mouth. Then, when she had nothing left to vomit with, she continued to dry-heave for what felt like an hour before the convulsions finally stopped. “Ohhhhhh…”

“You most likely have a rather serious concussion,” Izuru said.

Monaka didn’t really have the energy to listen to what he was saying anymore. She didn’t have the energy to work up the tears her eyes were signaling to her to make. She was barely able to choke out a single, pathetic sob.

“Come on,” Izuru said, helping her up. “You need medical attention.”

“Where are we going?” she groaned miserably as they started walking again.

“Hope’s Peak Academy.”

“Why…?”

“I’m taking you to Mikan Tsumiki.”

“Mikan Tsumiki?”

“The Ultimate Nurse.”

Monaka felt like her mind was taking these pieces of information and banging them together randomly, hoping something would click. “I don’t understand…”

“Don’t try to think too hard right now. Focus on walking.”

They trudged into the Science Wing. Most of the lights were off, except for dim floor lights illuminating the halls. Izuru led her through a winding series of corridors, making her lose all sense of direction, before coming to a closed door that read **TSUMIKI MIKAN**. There was a sliver of light leaking out from underneath the door. Izuru rapped on the door four times, each knock rattling like sharp rocks in her cranium.

“Uwa!! J-Just a moment!”

There was the sound of something metallic crashing against the floor, a dull _thump_ , and then Mikan Tsumiki swung open the door, looking like she’d been called on by a particularly strict teacher to present for the class. That expression quickly left her face, though, when she saw Izuru, and more importantly, Monaka. “What?”

“I need you to heal her,” he said bluntly. “She has a serious concussion, a fractured right femur, and several other injuries I have not assessed.”

Mikan’s face twisted into a dark scowl, an expression that Monaka thought looked unnatural on her. “What makes you think _I’d_ help her?”

“You’re the Ultimate Nurse,” he said. “You are responsible for treating the injuries of the student body, which Monaka Towa is a part of. Not doing so will result in suspension.”

“So?!” she snapped. “I would rather let her suffer and take the suspension!”

“You would pass up the opportunity to have Monaka Towa at your mercy?”

To say Mikan’s scowl disappeared would be the wrong way to describe the way her expression shifted. Rather, while her brow unfurrowed and her lips unpursed, her eyes gained a malevolent glint that Monaka knew spelled trouble for her. “Well… when you put it like that…!”

She stepped back, gesturing grandly inside. “Come in!”

Izuru helped Monaka inside, and onto a hospital bed. “Mikan will not be kind to you,” he said quietly, so only Monaka could hear. “I estimate you will be able to return to classes in two to three weeks, depending on what she plans to do to you.”

Something clicked in Monaka’s head, finally. “Wait—why don’t you—?”

“This way is more interesting,” he said.

He looked at Mikan, who was pulling out a variety of IV fluids and setting them on the table. “Don’t use that one,” he said to her. “It’s too concentrated. Two-thirds the molarity will be sufficient.”

“What would happen if I used it anyway?” Mikan asked with a sinister giggle.

“Then she would die from internal bleeding. Two-thirds the molarity will let you use the entire bag without the risk of permanently disabling her.” His gaze narrowed. “Hope’s Peak will expect that you actually heal her of her injuries. You can’t do anything that will raise any eyebrows when she is discharged.”

“Then it’s a good thing I say when she’s discharged!” Mikan smiled angelically.

Monaka felt very, very afraid.

* * *

“How are you feeling, sweetie?” Mikan asked with sickeningly fake worry as Izuru left, stroking her forehead lightly. “Where do you hurt?”

Monaka’s heart felt like it was in her throat. “My head… my leg… my stomach…”

Mikan nodded sympathetically. “Izuru said you have a concussion and a fractured bone in your leg. Does anything else hurt in particular?”

“…No. Not really.”

Mikan smiled. “Don’t worry. We’ll fix that all up.” She pulled over an IV stand that was just off to the side of the bed. “I’m going to be feeding you through this IV, because I think your jaw might be sprained. Tomorrow morning I’ll run a few tests on you and see exactly what happened.” She grabbed the IV needle and gently punctured the skin in the crook of her right elbow. “I debated which vein to use for you. The crook of your elbow is where I usually go, but the back of the hand opens up different possibilities.” She smiled again as she taped down the needle, then pulled out another IV bag from her bag of supplies. “Now, _this_ is a very special solution! I made it just for you!” She hooked the bag onto the stand. “Do you want to know what it is?”

Monaka felt her chest tighten with apprehension. “What is it?”

Mikan’s smile turned the slightest bit malicious. “This, Monaka, is a diluted solution of hydrochloric acid! Do you know what it does?”

Apprehension became fear.

“This solution,” Mikan continued, “is corrosive to organic material. That means skin, or hair, or your internal organs, or any part of your body! You know those stories you see in the news about people with acid burns?” She didn’t wait for an answer. “This is a diluted version of the acid they use!

“So, what I’m going to do right now, is I’m going to administer this to you for about an hour, then flush out the tubing with saline before I turn on your feeding tube. You’ll probably feel a burning sensation spread through your entire body. I’m not sure how painful it’ll be—Kamukura didn’t say how much damage it would do to your blood vessels, only that it wouldn’t disable or disfigure you when I’m finished with it.” Her smile had completely shifted into a grin of pure balefulness. “So when I come back, we can rate your pain on a scale of one to ten!” She turned on the IV, and they watched as the solution creeped slowly down the tube towards Monaka’s arm.

“Why are you doing this?” Monaka asked, terrified.

“Huh?” Mikan said. _“Why_ am I doing this?”

She shifted over so she was towering over Monaka, hands by her shoulders and knees by her hips. Her gaze burned into Monaka’s eyes as she hissed,

_“This is retribution, bitch.”_


	2. Disgusting

“Dude, you hear about Towa?”

“No, I didn’t hear about Towa. What happened to her?”

“Apparently she got herself clobbered into oblivion last night. Got cornered by some asshole Reserve Course kids and they beat her into a bloody pulp.”

“Really? About time.”

“About time? Dude, this is _Monaka Towa_ we’re talkin’ about here.”

“Yeah, I heard you the first time.”

“What, you think she deserved it?”

“Deserved it? The bitch had it coming a mile away.”

“…Wow. You really hate ‘er, don’t you?”

“…”

“Shit. Sorry I asked.”

“I honestly don’t know what you expected.”

“Not this.”

“Do they know who did it?”

“Yeah. The jerks actually reported themselves to the headmaster.”

“Who, though?”

“Kotoko Utsugi and Masaru Daimon.”

“Ah. Thought so. What’s their punishment, anybody know yet?”

“Nah, not yet. Probably a couple weeks suspension, knowing the headmaster.”

“Did they say if they had help?”

“They said Jataro Kemuri helped some.”

“Damn. Didn’t think he had that in him.”

“Yeah. ‘Pparently so.”

“Alright, I’ve gotta go. Lunch is about to start here.”

“Gotcha. Talk later, Shingetsu.”

“G’bye.”

_Fucking Monaka Towa… shit. At least she finally got what was coming to her._

“Yo, Shingetsu!”

Nagisa cast an icy glare at the approaching figure, a girl about his age with bright blue hair. “What do you want?”

The girl’s face fell. “Nagisaaaaa! That’s not very nice!”

“I’m in a bad mood, alright?” he snapped.

“What, did you hear about Monaka?” she asked, crossing her arms.

“Yeah, but believe me, that’s the best fuckin’ news I’ve received all day,” he snorted. “I’m more concerned with the fact that my project’s funding got cut. Again.”

“Ooo, that sucks.” She pulled out a pack of cigarettes from her skirt pocket. “Want one?”

“I’m sticking with this,” he said, showing her a black vape pen.

“Okay.” She lit her cigarette and took a deep draw from it, blowing out a thin cloud of smoke. “Why’d they cut it?”

“The funding? They said something to the effect of ‘not economically viable as-is’. Of course, they just don’t like what I’m proposing.”

“Which is?”

He took a puff from his vape pen. “A better version of the Kamukura Project. Get rid of the memory kinks, preserve the host personality. Same basic result, but it solves the biggest problem.”

She frowned. “Why wouldn’t they want that?”

“They don’t care about the host,” he hissed. “They want a fix to the motivation problem without preserving the original.”

“What?! That’s bullshit!”

“I told them I’m not changing my goals, and so they cut another 10 percent off my budget. I can still do it, but it’ll be much more ramshackle than I’d like.”

“Fuck Hope’s Peak,” she sighed.

“A-greed, sister.”

* * *

Monaka had never cried so much in her entire life.

Her entire body felt like it was on fire, burning from the inside out, for hours, even after Mikan had drained the bag completely dry. Everything from her arms to her feet to her throat to her eyes was alight with a scorching pain she’d never felt before. Every beat of her heart sent more of the poison through her, promising another endless second of torture, another minute that felt like a year in that bed, alone with someone whose only desire seemed to be to inflict as much pain as humanly possible before she had to treat her injuries and let her go. Every time the nurse approached her, with that awful cloying voice, “On a scale of one to ten, how would you rate your pain?”, every time, Monaka couldn’t find the strength to pause her sobbing long enough to say ten, or to lift her hands and show her ten fingers. She couldn’t find humour, or anger, or even annoyance when Mikan would invariably say, “Hurts like a bitch, doesn’t it?” All she could do was let the tears flow and try not to scream, because her voice had long since been exhausted of that ability.

But, after that first hellish night, the pain began to dull, ever so slowly. The last minute hurt a tiny bit less than the last one. The burning simmered down from unbearable to merely excruciating. She still couldn’t stop crying, but when Mikan came in that morning and asked to rate her pain, she managed to choke out, _“Ten!”_ Mikan had found this new development simultaneously wonderful and disappointing.

The bag was empty long before she would have even reached nine, but she took the smallest of comforts in knowing she had survived the worst of Mikan’s torture. The burning slowly went away, and by the time lunch had started, Monaka was able to stop crying.

“Are you all done?” Mikan asked with false sympathy. “Good. Your crying was starting to get annoying.” She disconnected the bag, tossing it in a nearby garbage can. “Even I have my limits!”

Monaka didn’t respond. She desperately wanted to sleep. She also desperately wanted Mikan to take away the pain in her body that had returned now that the acid was gone. Unfortunately, she knew Mikan was only going to make her pain worse before she made it better, so she kept her mouth clamped shut.

Mikan ran a few tests on her, and declared she had a nasty concussion, a fractured right femur, a few cracked ribs, severe bruising in her abdominal region, and a sprained jaw, among other small cuts and scrapes. The nurse gave her a horribly detailed rundown of how she planned to treat the girl until she was healed, hour by hour. The longer Monaka listened, the more she felt the familiar sensation of cold despair growing in her stomach. First she had been brutally bashed to bits by… somebody, then had her blood vessels burned with acid, and now Mikan was describing in gory detail exactly what she planned to do for the next _three weeks._ The only comfort she could find was that Izuru had said she would survive this in the end. Then again, Izuru knew the difference between _survive_ and _endure,_ so even when she was discharged, she would likely be much the worse for wear.

It didn’t really matter, she decided. She knew she deserved every second of this, so who was she to protest? She wasn’t a good person. She had hurt everybody who came near, for no other reason than the sheer fun of it. Then, when that fun had worn off, she’d been left surrounded by hatred and promises of vengeance for her actions. This was just another act of retribution. She wouldn’t actively seek it out, because it obviously found her just fine without her intervention. That was probably why she’d been found battered and bloody in an alley at two in the morning. It was obviously why Mikan was currently demonstrating how she would re-fracture her broken leg with a ball-peen hammer in a few days, predicting exactly which spots would hurt the most. It was also why Izuru hadn’t taken her into his own Ultimate care.

So she didn’t fight Mikan as the next round of torture began. She only allowed herself to give in to the pain, and cry, and scream, and eventually, pass out.

* * *

As always, hearing exactly how your body was going to be abused by the person healing you never lived up to how much it would actually hurt. Those three weeks under Mikan’s “care” were easily the worst three weeks of Monaka’s life. The nurse had much more creativity than whoever had assaulted her in the first place, calculating each horrendous act of violence so the pain inflicted would be nothing short of the maximum she could get away with. Looking back on that, Monaka should have expected she was omitting the worst of it—which easily made up for all of her own acts of sexual harassment and assault. She felt a little twinge of worry for Mikan, though, because that woman seemed to know far too much about the best ways to sexually abuse somebody to not have been involved in that somehow when she was younger.

Then, finally, the last day of her hospital stay came to an end. The sun rose just as routinely, the sky brightened to the same blue as always, but Monaka felt better just seeing it happen. Mikan came in around 7, holding a cup of Starbucks in one hand and her head in the other, looking like she had barely slept a wink. Monaka didn’t say anything as she staggered in, set down her coffee, and looked at her clipboard angrily. “Well!” she exclaimed. “It looks like today’s the day! You finally get to go free!” She stumbled over to the hospital bed, grabbing tightly onto the rail. “But before you do, I would like to say a few things.”

Monaka could smell alcohol on her breath, and her stomach clenched. Mikan had never come in drunk before, even when it was late at night and she had obviously come back from a party. Mikan sober was already frightening; Mikan under the influence could only mean something even worse.

“When I met you… you seemed like such a _sweet_ kid. I—I couldn’t understand how someone like you could have such a _reputation!_ But y’know what? It didn’t take me long to find out. Y’know _why?”_ She glared at Monaka, and when she received no response, she snarled, “Ask me why!”

“W-Why?”

“Because!” Mikan barked, a twisted smile stretching across her face. “Not two months into the year, _you_ sicced those good-for-nothing ‘Warriors of Hope’ on me! They beat me to within an inch of my life!”

She pulled out a flask from her apron. “Lucky me, I at least had some alcohol to dull the pain long enough to patch myself up before I bled out! But you know the worst part? I still don’t know why you did it!” She slammed the flask down on the nightstand. “So, before you go, I’m going to ask you once—just once!—why you did that to me.” Her grip on the rail tightened, so much Monaka thought she might split the skin over her knuckles. _“No second chances.”_

Monaka’s mind was racing, trying to remember what it was that she had ever gone after Mikan for. But in her terrified haze, the memories from before all blurred together, and she couldn’t remember, she couldn’t remember, she couldn’t, she couldn’t, she _couldn’t—_

“Cat got your tongue?” Mikan giggled mirthlessly. “Or are you having trouble picking me out of all the _other_ things you’ve done?”

The tears were starting to come. Monaka shook her head. “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t—”

Mikan let out a growl of frustration. “Seriously? _Now_ you’re gonna have a little panic attack?!” She grabbed Monaka by the chin and pulled her closer, until their foreheads were touching, and hissed with that deadly sugary voice, “Just answer the fucking _question,_ Monaka-chan!”

“I c-can’t remember!” Monaka cried. “I c-c-can’t!”

Mikan shoved her back against the bed. “Fine! Fine! Don’t tell me!” She pushed herself back onto her feet and stomped back to her desk. “Your crutches are by the door! Go get them and get the _fuck_ out of my room!”

Monaka really, really wanted to die right now.


	3. Culpability

“Now, let me be clear to you both,” he sighed, resting his hands on the desk. “I understand that you were bullied by Ms. Towa—”

_“Bullied?”_ Masaru exclaimed. “She fuckin’ tortured us!”

“Please do not interrupt me,” the headmaster said sternly. “I understand that Ms. Towa’s past behaviour was inexcusable, but that does not give you the right to attack her, _alone,_ and leave her to be found by Mr. Kamukura hours later.”

“Shit, Izuru Kamukura found her?” Kotoko groaned.

“Yes, Ms. Utsugi, Mr. Kamukura found Ms. Towa and reported the incident to me directly,” he confirmed. “He said you seriously injured her, long enough that she’ll be under Ms. Tsumiki’s care for no less than three weeks.” He leaned forward a little, eyes burning into theirs. “Think about that. Your actions will take the Ultimate Nurse _three weeks_ to heal, not counting the mental and emotional trauma you’ve given that girl.”

“She deserved it,” Masaru hissed.

“I have already told you, it does not matter what she did in the past,” the headmaster said. “The fact remains that you _assaulted_ Monaka Towa, breaking multiple school rules in the process, and what’s more, you each committed a _felony_ in the process. You are _criminals_ in the eyes of the law now.”

That got their attention. The colour drained from Kotoko’s face, and Masaru became much more still. Jataro covered his face with his too-long sleeves and started mumbling, “I knew it, I knew it was a bad idea, I knew it, I knew…”

“So,” the headmaster said, “what should I do with you?”

They all looked at each other in confusion. “Um… what do you mean, headmaster?” Kotoko asked.

“I mean: what should I do with you?” he repeated. “You’ve committed a crime. You’ve broken school rules. You’ve attacked one of your classmates.” He laced his fingers together on the desk. “And it is my job as headmaster to ensure that not only are this school’s rules upheld, but that each of my students are given the opportunity to become their best, their Ultimate selves. So, with that in mind, tell me what I should do with you.”

* * *

Monaka would really have preferred that she had gotten jumped on Saturday. That would mean three weeks of hell would end with a day off on Sunday before school started. But she wasn’t the Ultimate Lucky Student. Today was Thursday. And she had missed three weeks of school.

She was at least comforted by the fact that the school year had only just started, so she couldn’t have missed incredibly much. Had it been coming up on midterms, she would’ve been fucked on two fronts instead of just one. This way, she was only going to be handicapped physically.

She somehow woke up on time, but getting ready took forever. She had to figure out how to maneuver into the shower without bending her right knee, how to put on her pants without pressing her hand against the massive bruise over her thigh, and how to keep her breakfast down. Mikan’s “care” had taken the edge off of her pain, but the nurse had estimated that it would take months for everything to heal, and until then she would be stiff and sore and miserable.

Well. Not like she hadn’t been miserable her whole fucking life to begin with.

* * *

“I personally think it’s a shame. She’s incredibly talented. If she would only put in her full effort, she could be seen as a _true_ Ultimate by the community at large.”

“She believes her reputation is irreparable at this point. Her beliefs are not without cause.”

“She was just a kid. Kids make mistakes.”

“There’s a difference between mistakes made by children and mistakes made by Ultimates. Monaka Towa knows she acted in her own best interest, and that her actions injured others gravely.”

“That’s Ultimates, though. Lots of Ultimates are criminals, technically.”

“Does that mean they are exempt from the justice of humankind? Or is it as Hope’s Peak deludes itself to believe? That Ultimates are above the illusory systems put in place by talentless people who only seek to control them?”

“I didn’t realise you cared.”

“I care about one thing, and one thing only, Mr. Komaeda. My care for that one thing binds me to assign weight to inconsequential matters that I would otherwise ignore.”

“Hope’s Peak being one of those things?”

“Yes.”

“Mind if I ask what that one thing you care about is?”

“I will not deign to answer. Even for you, it should be obvious.”

“Ehe! I suppose I should’ve guessed.”

Izuru sighed, casting a bored glance down the hall. “Monaka Towa.”

Monaka looked up from where she was sitting, just outside the door to her homeroom. “Hi, Izuru. Hi, Mr. Komaeda.”

“It’s good to see you back,” Mr. Komaeda said with false brightness.

“Don’t bother,” she sighed.

“You should not order a large lunch today,” Izuru droned, crossing the hall to stand next to her. “Your emotional trauma is the primary cause of your nausea, which will likely last another week.”

“I figured.”

“Your assailants were Masaru Daimon, Kotoko Utsugi, and Jataro Kemuri. They are currently upstairs.”

“…Okay.”

Izuru watched dispassionately as Monaka started to quietly sob into her hands. Mr. Komaeda looked at them awkwardly for a few moments, not sure what to do, then shuffled off down the opposite end of the hall.

“I… I wish they could’ve just killed me…”

“Killing you would not have satisfied them. They want to see you like this.”

“L-Lucky them…”

“…Most people would take that as a challenge to appear stronger before their enemies.”

“I… don’t… care.”

“So it seems. I must inform you, not caring becomes… boring.”

“Fuck you.”

Izuru’s eyes narrowed ever so slightly. “And you fail to respond to my rare attempt at humour. How dull.”

“I don’t care. Go away.”

“No.”

“Why?”

“It is interesting to see someone like you in despair.”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hall. “Hey there, Izuru!” a teacher called out, waving.

“Good morning,” he nodded cordially as she approached.

“I thought I would find you here!” she said proudly. “Because I knew you’d be interested to see my reac—Monaka! Monaka, what’s wrong?!” She knelt down in front of Monaka, frowning worriedly. “Monaka, sweetie, what’s wrong?”

“Go away!” Monaka cried. “I don’t wanna talk!”

The teacher looked up at Izuru. “Don’t bother,” he sighed. “She will be inconsolable for a while.”

“…If you say so,” she said, biting her lip. “Come find me when you’re ready to talk, okay, Monaka? I’ll be right here all day.” She stood up. “Well… I was just about to say that I knew you’d be interested to see how I’d react when I saw Monaka… I was right, huh?”

“Ms. Nanami, your deduction skills grow more keen each day,” Izuru said, and the two disappeared down the hall, leaving Monaka alone, sobbing by the door to her homeroom.


	4. Ms. Monaka's Playground Lesson

“Come on, Monaka. Convince me.”

Mr. Komaeda stared intensely into her eyes. “Come on, you know you can do it.”

She sighed despondently. “What do you want me to do?”

“Anything. Whatever your mind comes up with first.”

She shut her eyes, a familiar sensation swelling up in her chest. Like a black snake was slithering inside her lungs. It made it uncomfortable to breathe, but she didn’t fight it.

She opened her eyes, and smiled wanly, “Y’know, there’s one thing Monaka’s always wanted, Mr. Komaeda.”

Mr. Komaeda smiled back. “Really? What is that, Monaka?”

“Monaka’s always wanted to hear you say that hope is meaningless. That it does nothing for you, or anybody.”

Mr. Komaeda’s smile slipped a little. “I-Is that so? I’m afraid I can’t do that, Monaka.”

Monaka cocked her head. “Why? Why won’t you just say it? For Monaka?”

He shook his head. “Even saying it would be too much for me. They’re such foul words.”

“What words, Mr. Komaeda?”

“…Oh, good try. No, I’m still not saying it.”

She scowled, acting injured. “But Monaka wants to hear you say it! Please?”

“You won’t convince me, Monaka,” he said resolutely.

She leaned closer to him. “Monaka knows you’ve wanted to try it. Even just to find out what it feels like to say it. Come on. You want to say it for Monaka.”

His resolute expression wasn’t so resolute anymore. “I can’t…”

“Why not? They’re just words. Monaka’s said them. Kamukura’s said them. You’ve always wanted to. Say them for Monaka…”

He bit his lip, shaking his head vigorously.

“Pleeeeaaase…?”

“No!” he hissed through clenched teeth.

“Monaka wants you to say them, Mr. Komaeda. Say them…”

He looked about ready to burst.

“Say them…”

“I… I… believe…”

“You believe what?”

“I… believe… hope… is…”

“Hope is what? What is hope to you?”

“…meaningless.”

“What was that? What did you say?”

“Hope… is meaningless.”

“What does hope do for you?

“…Nothing. Not for me, not for anybody.”

“Do you believe that?”

“Yes. Absolutely.”

She leaned back into her seat, her face falling back into neutral. “Okay. I did it.”

Mr. Komaeda frowned in confusion, then shook his head. “…Aha! Ha! Ha!” He ran his hands through his hair. “Excellent! Excellent work, Monaka! You see? Your Ultimate Talent is capable of anything if you just keep putting your mind to it like you just did!”

She didn’t respond, instead glancing out the window at the courtyard. She spied a familiar head of blue hair standing by the fountain. Izuru was also there, talking with the teacher from earlier.

“Hey.” Mr. Komaeda snapped his fingers. “Monaka, pay attention.”

Reluctantly, she looked back to him.

“Your Talent is the most important thing in your life right now,” he said, eyes burning with muted passion. “It’s your job as a Hope’s Peak Academy Ultimate Student to focus solely on cultivating it.”

“That’s a lot easier said than done,” she mumbled, resting her head on her hands.

“Yes, but it’s not as hard as you’re making it,” he said. “You obviously have the capability, but your motivation is… abysmal. You need to stop feeling sorry for yourself and focus on being an Ultimate.”

“I don’t _want_ to be an Ultimate,” she spat.

Mr. Komaeda scowled. “Nobody asks to be an Ultimate, Monaka. I didn’t. The headmaster didn’t. Your classmates didn’t. But they all did and do what’s _expected_ of them, do you understand?” He was the one to lean closer this time. “You are not allowed to fail. You are not allowed to drop out. Your Talent is more important than your brooding. Get over yourself and start doing something with it.”

“I was literally beaten half to death only three weeks ago,” she growled. “Don’t I get time to heal?”

“You did,” he said. “Three weeks of it. Under the Ultimate Nurse’s care.”

Monaka nearly lost it right there. _Fuck that fucking bitch! Damn her to hell!_

“Emotional healing takes longer, I know, but you have access to resources right here,” Mr. Komaeda continued. “If you want pity, go to someone else. My job is to teach you, not to coddle you.”

The bell finally, finally chimed. “Lunch already?” he hummed, frowning at the clock. “Alright. That’s it for today. I want you to be ready for class tomorrow. None of this self-pitying you’re oozing right now.” He returned to his desk. “Go off to lunch.”

* * *

The one and only benefit to being at rock bottom was that it meant Monaka had exactly zero fucks to give anymore, and as such, she had no trouble being herself today.

She decided to have lunch outside today, where everybody could have a chance to take cheap shots at her and praise the Warriors of Hope for their work. The sky was especially red today, but whether it was actually redder or not, she wasn’t sure. Maybe she was just seeing red after that awful class.

As she’d expected, sitting at the fountain was the perfect spot to be the hate sink today. She got everything from dirty looks to people spitting on the ground in front of her to verbal insults, and she gave each and every one of them a tailor-fit spin on the phrase, “Go fuck yourself.” Nobody was brave enough to escalate it any further, not so out on the open, but some of them shot back with their own uncreative curses as they walked away. It gave Monaka a little malevolent pleasure every time she outshone their responses. Even when she was ready to curl up and die, she was still better than a lot of them at cutting someone’s ego down to size.

Lunch was about half-over when someone sat down next to her holding a bento box. “Welcome back, Monaka Towa.”

Monaka sighed loudly. “The fuck do you want, Nagisa?”

“Nothin’,” he said. “I just thought I’d have a show with my meal.”

“Well, you’re in for a treat today,” she snarled.

“Lucky me.”

They sat for a few minutes without interacting. A few more people laughed at Monaka. She told them, in order, to choke on his sushi, to run herself through a meat grinder, and to hang himself in his closet. None of them had any good rebuttal.

“Kotoko and Masaru should’ve cut out your tongue,” Nagisa remarked. “That would’ve been a greater service to the school than beating you into a bloody mess.”

“I’d find a way to be just as unpleasant,” she growled, watching her last victim walk away.

“Shame you’d lose your Talent,” he said.

“If cutting out my tongue would get me out of here, I’d do it myself,” she said. “But that wouldn’t work. Mr. Komaeda would cut his out and have them sew it onto the bloody stump.”

“No mercy from Monaka today,” he muttered, sprinkling some salt onto his food. “As to be expected.”

“I’m done being nice,” she scowled darkly. “I’m also done being quiet.”

“So you’re going to say everything that comes to your mind when someone says something to you,” he said. “A foolproof plan to get yourself killed.”

“That’s the idea, Shingetsu.”

“Correction: a foolproof plan to live a life of suffering.”

“Fuck off.”

“Nah.”

She shoved him roughly, nearly making him spill his food. He didn’t even flinch. “I said _fuck off,_ Shingetsu.”

He didn’t say anything, taking another large bite of food.

She growled furiously, then stood up and marched away as best she could.

* * *

It finally occurred to Monaka, as she laid in her bed later that afternoon, what she had done to Mikan that had provoked those three weeks of hell. Being Monaka, of course, it was incredibly undeserving.

Mikan had decided it would be a good idea to be in the same vicinity as the Warriors of Hope, and by extension herself, when they were busy buying liquor. They weren’t even gonna drink it, they just wanted the thrill of breaking the law. Mikan walked by, asked how they were doing, and she—how had that trash put it?—sicced the Warriors of Hope on her so she wouldn’t have the chance to notice what they were up to. Mission accomplished.

It wasn’t worth it, of course. None of it was worth it. The anger in her system faded away, leaving that familiar sensation of emptiness deep in her heart, and she found herself fighting not to cry again. She kicked off her shoes, stripped off her school uniform, and pulled the blankets up over herself, trying to find some sort of warmth before she fell asleep.


	5. It's A Kid's World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning: graphic violence, sexual assault, mentions of rape.

The sky seemed to glow even after the sun had set, a sinister red still tinging the buildings and the remnants of plant life along the edges of the road. Few cars travelled along these roads anymore, and had so been repurposed as walking and cycling paths. The asphalt had weathered the storm reasonably well so far, especially without the traffic of hundreds of cars and trucks and motorcycles on it, but nature was slowly breaking it apart, reclaiming the path with its own soil and rain. As such, there was a plentiful amount of small rocks and sand littered across the pitch-black surface.

This silt crunched under their feet as they marched down the street, echoing off the few buildings flanking them on either side. One of them was quietly mumbling a song to herself, too quietly to understand the lyrics. The tune was very happy, but her face suggested she was not feeling quite as cheery.

“Will you fucking can it?” the leader snapped at her. “I’m sick of hearing that song.”

“Fuck you, I’ll sing what I want!” she retorted.

“I said _can_ it, short stuff!” he ordered, pointing his finger at her threateningly. “Sing something else!”

She was unfazed, and started singing louder. “And we’ll _never_ have to _fight,_ in our childrens’ _pa-ra-dise!—”_

“I swear to the gods, I will _deck_ you!”

_“And you’ll never have to be afraid again when it’s a kid’s world!”_

“H-Hey, guys,” their third member interrupted before the leader could make a move on her, “look over there…”

He gestured down a dimly-lit alley across the street, sleeve hanging loosely off his hand. The leader followed his gaze, and a vindictive grin split across his face. “Well, well, well, what do we have _here?”_ He jerked his head towards the alley. “C’mon, guys.”

They jogged across the street, stopping just short of the alley, and huddled together conspiratorially. “Okay, what’s our plan?” the singer asked. “Do we play nice or go for the kill?”

“Let’s see what she decides,” the leader snickered. “If she’s smart, she’ll get out of dodge before we have the chance to do jack shit. If not…”

“If not what?” the quiet one asked apprehensively.

“Then we’ll treat her to the full nine yards,” the leader promised. “She’ll be lucky we leave her alive.”

The singer’s eyes widened. “Really…?”

“You got a problem with that?” he asked.

“No. Not at all,” the singer said, an evil smile forming. “I just didn’t expect you’d be so on board with that.”

“Hell yeah I am,” he laughed. “She’s fucking earned it, don’tcha think?”

“A-Are we sure about this?” the quiet one asked.

“Yeah, we’re fucking sure, Jataro!” Masaru barked. “Are you?!”

“Yes! Yes, I am!” Jataro exclaimed, throwing his arms up over his face.

“Good! Then let’s go!”

They slinked down towards the alley, breathing as quietly as they dared. Masaru and Kotoko both had grins of anticipation on their faces. Jataro looked much less enthusiastic, but even he had a small smile on his face. They moved as one towards their target.

They entered the alley. “Looky here,” Masaru breathed, and gestured towards their unsuspecting victim, who was sitting down with a notebook in her lap and a pair of cat-ear headphones over her ears. “Monaka _fuckin’_ Towa.”

“I call dibs on her headphones,” Kotoko hissed. “They’re totally adorbs!”

“Go for it,” Masaru said. “I’m just here to kick some ass.”

They tiptoed towards her, warming up their hands and arms. Monaka didn’t even notice them, not even when they were right in fornt of her. It helped that their shadows were hidden by the building in front of them.

Masaru made the first move. “Hey. Towa,” he said, snapping his fingers in front of her notebook. She jumped in surprise, nearly hitting her head against the wall, and looked up. Her eyes widened with something like fear when she saw them, towering over her with sinister grins. Masaru gestured for her to take off her headphones. She obliged, and Kotoko noticed her hands were shaking just a tiny bit.

“Long time no see, Monaka,” Masaru said darkly. “How ya been?”

Monaka made a sound in her throat like she was about to say something, but nothing came out. Masaru scowled. “I _said,_ how ya _been?”_

“I—I—” Monaka stammered.

“Jeez, cat got your tongue?” he growled. He grabbed her by the shoulders and yanked her up to a standing position, her notebook falling onto his feet. He kicked it away dismissively. “That’s weird. Usually you’re so _good_ with words. Is the Ultimate Manipulator sleeping on the job in there?” He rapped on her forehead roughly. “C’mon, Monaka, wake up!”

“P-Please don’t call me that…” she whispered.

“What, Monaka? That’s your fucking name, dipshit!”

“That’s not what I meant…”

“Ultimate Manipulator? That’s your fucking _title,_ dipshit!”

“Please, don’t call me that!”

Masaru shoved her against the wall, and her head made a satisfying _crack_ against the concrete. “Since when did _you_ start asking people nicely? You’ve done a fuckin’ 180! What gives?”

“I don’t want any trouble,” she said shakily. She looked genuinely scared now. But she had waited too long. She wouldn’t be getting out of here in one piece.

“She doesn’t want _any trouble,”_ Masaru repeated mockingly, turning to his friends. “You hear that?!”

“That’s such a shame, cutie,” Kotoko purred, reaching out and twirling a lock of Monaka’s hair around her finger, “because we _do_ want trouble.”

“What do you want?” Monaka asked fearfully.

“What do we _want?”_ Masaru repeated. “Well…” He moved his right hand up from her shoulder to her chin, gently pushing it up so she was looking directly into his eyes. “We were thinking we’d start off slow, y’know, nothin’ too crazy. Roughhousing, y’know? Schoolyard shit.” He flicked her forehead teasingly. “Then we’d ramp it up to somethin’ more serious. Throw some punches. Give you a nice shiner, maybe. Then, after that, we’re thinking we’ll go for gold and _really_ give you what you deserve.”

“The beating of a lifetime,” Kotoko growled hungrily. “What do you say, cutie?”

Monaka shook her head furiously. “Please, please, don’t—!”

“Whoa, whoa, hold the fuck up,” Masaru interrupted her, pressing his hand over her mouth. “Since when did we say you got to _leave?”_

“You should’ve left the minute you had the chance,” Jataro muttered. He sounded genuinely regretful.

“Showtime, motherfucker,” Masaru giggled.

He rammed his knee directly into her stomach. Monaka gasped, nearly dropping to the ground right there. “Okay, I lied,” he said. “No sissy stuff. Straight for the kill.”

Kotoko yanked off her headphones. “I’m taking these before you have a chance to break them,” she said to Masaru, wrapping them around her own neck.

“Good style choice right there,” he said, gesturing to his own headphones.

“Hey, thanks!”

He kneed Monaka in the stomach again, and this time she fell to her knees, tears welling up in her eyes. Before she had a chance, Kotoko kicked her in the side, knocking her onto her back, and then the fight started in earnest.

They held nothing back. Years of repressed rage came to the forefront at last, and surged through their veins as they put all their strength into hurting Monaka Towa, Ultimate Manipulator, Li’l Ultimate Homeroom, the Mage of the Warriors of Hope. Masaru felt a burst of malevolent joy with every connection he made with his fists. Kotoko was cackling with glee the entire time, using the pointed toes of her heels as weapons of their own, stabbing into Monaka’s vulnerable stomach, thighs, face, everywhere she could.

Masaru pulled her back up and rammed her against the wall, her head making another loud _crack_ against it, then swung, and swung, and swung, until Monaka was spitting out blood. He didn’t care that his clothes were getting splattered with pink, that was _Monaka’s blood,_ and that felt _good._ He would _drink_ the stuff if he could, at this point.

“Hey, hey, my turn, my turn!” Kotoko yelled.

Masaru practically threw Monaka at Kotoko. “Go for it!”

Kotoko giggled maniacally. “Remember how you always used to press my buttons from way back when? The times you made me your bitch when I wouldn’t listen? Well, now it’s _payback time!”_

She ripped open Monaka’s blouse, buttons scattering across the ground. “Aw, isn’t that an adorbs bra?!” she cooed. “I might have to take that for myself!”

She ripped open the rest of the buttons and pulled off the shirt, then spun her around and unclasped her bra. “Aw, damn, you’re so close to my size!” she pouted as she tore it out of Monaka’s grip. “I’m a 75E, not a 75D!” She tossed it away. “Hey, don’t hide!” she barked, yanking down Monaka’s arms away from her chest. “You don’t get to hide now! Show everybody what you’ve got under those clothes! You’re so _adorbs_ under all those layers! Masaru, hold her arms!” She spun Monaka around again, and Masaru pulled her arms behind her back. Kotoko giggled again, and grabbed Monaka’s breasts. “So soft! Gosh, you’re almost as cute as me! Stop crying so much!” She squeezed, hard, and Monaka’s cries became louder. “You’re such a _baby,_ Monaka! You can dish it out but you can’t take it, huh?!” She raked her fingernail across Monaka’s chest, leaving a deep cut directly over her breasts. “I’m not even doing anything with your _skirt_ yet!”

“N-No! Please, p-please, no!” Monaka shrieked.

“What was that? _No?”_ Kotoko laughed. “You don’t _get_ a choice, Monaka, sweetie!”

“Hey, Kotoko, let’s not get _too_ crazy, ‘kay?” Masaru laughed.

“Oh, what, you think I was planning on _raping_ her or something?” Kotoko giggled. “Come on, I’m not _that_ bad!”

She reached around Monaka’s hips, and pulled her skirt down in one fluid motion. “You even _matched_ your underwear?!” she exclaimed. “You’re _so cute,_ you know that?!”

She held up Monaka’s skirt, and ripped it cleanly open. “Too bad your skirt’s got a little tear in it!” she said with mock sympathy. “Guess you’ll have to get home without it!”

“You’re fuckin’ _vicious,_ Kotoko!” Masaru laughed.

Kotoko smiled angelically. “That’s me!” She grabbed Monaka again, this time by the hips. “Wow, you’ve got a pretty great ass, too! You got _sexy,_ Monaka! Maybe you should get a uniform that fits a little more snugly on you!”

“Please, s-s-stooop!” Monaka wailed.

“Were you not _fucking listening?!”_ Kotoko shouted, slapping her across the face. _“You don’t get to say no!”_

“Guys—” Jataro interrupted.

“Not now, Jataro!” Kotoko said. “Just one more minute, I’m almost done!”

“O-Okay,” he mumbled.

“Now, Monaka,” Kotoko purred, cupping her chin in one hand as she tightened her grip on the girl’s backside with the other, “let this be a lesson to you, m’kay? _You push my buttons, I’ll push right back.”_

She shoved her into Masaru. “Okay, I’m good, Masaru!”

“Alright, I’d say you’ve had just about enough,” Masaru growled into Monaka’s ear. “I think we just need one finishing touch!”

He pushed Monaka onto the ground, and pinned down her right ankle under his foot. “This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker, just FYI!” he crowed, and brought down his other foot with all his might onto her leg.

Monaka’s shriek of agony was earsplitting. It was horribly amazing that nobody who might have heard it didn’t immediately look for the source. Masaru and Kotoko howled with laughter, while Jataro backed up into the wall behind him, hands over his ears as he muttered, “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…”

“Okay, I’m done,” Masaru sighed contentedly. “Jataro, you want a crack before we go?”

Jataro shook his head vigorously. “Oh gods, oh gods, oh gods…”

“…I think we broke Jataro,” Masaru said. “Oh well. Let’s roll.”

“See you at school, Monaka!” Kotoko giggled maliciously, and the three of them left, leaving Monaka sobbing on the ground, beaten and stripped, alone.

* * *

Nagisa knew something had happened when he saw the Warriors of Hope across the street, laughing madly and looking rather roughed up. Taking care to avoid them, he made his way to their side of the street, and started looking for whoever they’d pounded into a bloody pulp.

A couple blocks away, he found his answer. His eyebrows shot up, and his stomach flipped sickeningly in his gut. “Holy shit…”

Monaka was passed out facedown on the ground, stripped down to just her underwear. A small pool of blood surrounded her head, and her right leg was bent at an unnatural angle. Her clothes were strewn about, too damaged to be recovered. He stepped a little closer, biting his tongue so he didn’t gag when the smell hit him. He looked down at Monaka for a few moments, then back out to the street, then back at Monaka, then back to the street. He thought for a few long seconds, then went over to her shirt, and fished out her ElectroID.

He jogged back to campus, through the courtyard and past the main building, up to the dorms. Then up two flights, down the hall, and he found her room. He entered, zeroing in on her closer, and pulled out a fresh uniform. He jogged back again, ignoring the one or two strange looks he got from the night owls taking a midnight stroll, and made his way back to Monaka. Very carefully, he put the clean uniform on, trying not to feel too frustrated as her blood soaked through it anyway. He propped her up against the wall, and tried as best he could to clean off her face with a pack of tissues. It was rather useless, but it gave him a brief glimpse of how her face looked underneath all the pink. She was seriously injured. She needed immediate medical attention. He stood up, dusted off his pants, and exited the alley.

As he approached Hope’s Peak, he saw a familiar figure in a black suit walking the other way. “Hey, Izuru!” he called out. “I need your help.”

Izuru approached him. “What do you need my help for?”

“Monaka got beaten up really badly a couple blocks away. She’s bleeding pretty heavily, and I think her leg’s broken.”

Izuru frowned fractionally. “Lead the way.”


End file.
